Voices and Photos

Voices and Photos

Want to hear some samples of my voiceover work? I’ve got links to some of them on my sidebar now—and also in this post.

Here’s a link to an online demo that I did for a product called Mighty Key.

Here’s the page at Tekhelet.com where you can see the video that explains the origins and traditions surrounding tekhelet, the biblical blue dye. I did the voiceover for that, too.

I also added a proper link to my photographs on Flickr. It’s about time, since I sold my first photo last summer.

Here’s the photo:

The rest are here.

There will be more links as I get them.

Gazing from On High

Gazing from On High

Ever have the feeling you’re being watched?

It’s likely not your imagination.

It’s Catschka the Yom Kippur Kittycat, making sure that we’ve all been good little girls and boys this year... so far.

Gmar hatima tova! (May you be sealed for good in the Book of Life.)

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Two Pictures from Today

Two Pictures from Today

This morning, I went to my dentist for a cleaning. His office is located on an upper floor of a high-rise in downtown Jerusalem. For years, I’ve wanted to take a picture of the view. Today, I finally got my courage up and asked him whether I could take some pictures from the window. He said, “Go ahead.”

Yes, that’s the Dome of the Rock on the right, and if you look closely, you can see the gold spires of the Russian church to the left of it. Behind it is the Mount of Olives.

As I took the photos, I couldn’t help but say: “My kingdom for a wide-angle lens!”

Later today, I noticed a moth flitting about near a plant nursery. After it landed on a berry, I took out my camera and managed to get a few shots. This one came out the best, I think:

Yeah... I guess I hang out with flighty characters sometimes.

For Maryam

For Maryam

I wanted my last post of the year to be simply wishes for a shanah tovah—a good year. And of course I still do wish everyone a good year, but I can’t put up a cheerful post the way that I’d planned to do.

Maryam died last night after a long illness. The funeral was at noon today.

Maryam was a long-time member of our minyan. Her good friend (and mine), Zelig, died on the first day of Rosh ha-Shanah last year. And now, on the last day of the year, Maryam passed away.

It feels strange to say “Shanah tovah” when you’ve just returned from a funeral, particularly the funeral of someone who was still young, whose parents are, to the best of my knowledge, still living. What is going through my mind right now is the line from the old Hebrew hymn: Tikhleh shanah ve-killeloteha; tahel shanah u-virkhoteha—may the curses of the old year end and the blessings of the new year begin. May it indeed be a good year for us all, with an end to sorrow and with the blessings of peace and consolation and joy.

May Maryam’s family and friends be comforted, and may Maryam’s sweet soul rest in peace.

Baby Blues

Baby Blues

As I passed through the garden earlier today, Her Ladyship came over to me and asked to be petted. Then, when she’d had her fill of skritches, she posed, showing off her beautiful baby blues.

At one point, she took over my backpack. The fact that I’d been on my way out didn’t faze her at all. (To be fair, I didn’t complain, either.)

“I love you, Your Ladyship.”

“I know.”

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Still in the Yard... but Less

Still in the Yard... but Less

The elm trees for which this blog was named were partially cut down yesterday and today.

It turns out that they were diseased and rotting. If they had been allowed to remain as they were, falling branches—some thicker around than an adult human being—could have caused severe injury or worse, God forbid. (At least one branch fell last year, lightly injuring one of the building’s residents.)

And so, we did what had to be done.

Here, a workman cuts down one of the trees in the adjacent yard:

Looking down from above at the truncated tree:

The same tree at ground level:

The view from just inside the front gate, with tree debris covering the sidewalk to a depth of several feet:

I’ll miss the tree with its magnificent canopy. I will particularly miss the wild parakeets that used to come and eat the seeds every spring. But I’m told that the tree will grow back. I hope it will, and that it will stay healthy when it does!

Shades of Cream, Tan and Brown

Shades of Cream, Tan and Brown

This past week, Catschka was given the freedom of the garden, under her human mom’s supervision. I got some pictures of her and of Her Ladyship as they frolicked (in Catschka’s case) and tried to get some rest (in Her Ladyship’s case).

Catschka, in a rare moment of rest, framed in greenery:

Her Ladyship likes to rest in the market basket... even when the market basket is being used for shrubbery clippings.

Her Ladyship likes to hide underneath my skirt. Here, she makes me look like I have a tail:

Catschka says, “Play with me!” Her Ladyship says: “I’ll stay right here, thank you very much.”

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Where Did You Say You Went to School Again?

Where Did You Say You Went to School Again?

Seen in a nearby neighborhood:

The alumni reunions must be fantastic. I wonder where they’re held....

9/11

9/11

I didn’t forget yesterday. And I never will.

Seraphic Secret.

Allahpundit (via Meryl Yourish).

Blog d’Elisson.

Farsighted

Farsighted

Last week, Google put up a doodle commemorating the four-hundredth anniversary of Galileo Galilei’s telescope.

That put me in mind of a song. It was written by my late dear friend Ray Scudero after Pope John Paul II reversed the Catholic Church’s decision to excommunicate Galileo. Among other things, Ray’s song satirizes the idea of papal infallibility, the idea that any human being has the power to condemn a soul to Hell, and, of course, the zealous thought-policing of the Inquisition, which Ray, a thinker and inventor himself, abhorred.

Here’s a look, through Ray’s eyes, at the conversation that took place when the devil got the call from Upstairs, telling him that it was time to let Galileo go:

“Hell-o,” the Devil said.
“It’s me, the Pope. How are you, Red?
“About Galileo, for a start....
“You see, we’ve had a change of heart—
“And we’re recommunicating Galileo.
“It seems that Heaven’s just where he belongs;
“That other Pope’s a real far-sighted fellow
“And we can’t suppose he’s guilty of any wrongs.
“Ah, Galileo!
“He knew your talents well
“And wanted research done on Hell;
“Hand your thesis to this angel
“And come along this way....
“So nobody can remand us for a blunder Vaticanus;
“Don’t try to understand us—we’re infallible, you know;
“We’re holier than any man on Earth today, with power to damn,
“And so, beware: we also can... make rules up as we go.”

But what really gives me pause is the last line of the following stanza, which is also the last line of the song:

I salute you, Galileo Galilei!
You’ve got your round-trip ticket after all;
And it’s heavenly and never more the hell-y
Unless someone new should override John Paul.

I believe that Ray wrote “Galileo Galilei” somewhere around 1992. In early 2008, a prestigious Italian university cancelled the visit of the current pope, Benedict XVI, over statements that he made in 1990 that appeared to condone Galileo’s excommunication.

Wow. Talk about farsighted.

(The complete lyrics to “Galileo Galilei” are here. The online archive of Ray’s songs is here.)

Catschka the Chair Thief

Catschka the Chair Thief

I was sitting down. Then I got up.

Then look what happened.

Well, I can’t really blame her, considering that the penalty for chair-thieving is a combination cuddle, skritch and bellyrub....

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Two

Two

Her Ladyship and Catschka are getting along better these days... or maybe it’s just resignation on Her Ladyship’s part.

Sharing a drink (le-hayyim, ladies!):

Taking baths together:

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Photos from the Archive

Photos from the Archive

Here are two photos of a lovely calico who lives in my area.

“I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille.”

She really does look like a model, doesn’t she?

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Chasing Rainbows

Chasing Rainbows

Catschka chased a rainbow... and got one!

What are you going to do with it now that you have it, Catschka?

Ah, well, ask a silly question....

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

His and Hers

His and Hers

As I have written before, I have no problem with separate seating in the synagogue in and of itself. I do have a problem with women’s sections that exclude rather than separate.

Today I found another one: at the synagogue at the Malha Mall in Jerusalem. Here are some photos.

The main (read: men’s) section of the synagogue, facing toward the rear:

The women’s section—a separate room with its own entrance, with the wall facing the main synagogue replaced by a thick wooden lattice partially filled with what looked like opaque glass. Taken facing the rear:

Taken facing the front:

The centerpiece of the synagogue, an Renaissance-era Ark imported from Mantua, Italy:

The Ark as seen from the women’s section:

A view of the lattice from the men’s section:

A view of the lattice from the women’s section:

The entrance to the men’s section:

The entrance to the women’s section:

In my opinion—and I know that some people will disagree with me—the solution is not to do away with the mehitza. It is to make women’s sections an inviting, welcoming part of the synagogue.

Yet I suppose that we women should be grateful that there is a women’s section at all. As far as I know, the synagogue at the Jerusalem Central Bus Station still does not have one. (Follow-up post here.)

The More Things Change...

The More Things Change...

From On Women and Judaism: A View from Tradition by Blu Greenberg (preview the book here):

One evening, as I sat in a graduate rabbinic literature course, the professor departed from his explication of the text at hand to comment on an article that had appeared that morning on the front page of the New York Times about the Conservative Movement’s decision to count women in a minyan. “This Jew,” he said, in a tone not quite free of derision, “gets up in the morning. His five children start to get up, and all at once the house is in an uproar. Now he sets off to the synagogue for the early morning minyan. By the time he gets home, his wife has the children washed, dressed, fed, and off to school. The house is quiet again and he sits down to a peaceful breakfast and an hour of leisurely study. When he comes back in the evening from work, the place is in an uproar again. So he takes his prayer book and his Bible and goes off to the synagogue again. Now I ask you, what’s he going to do if his good wife has to go to the minyan?” This account was greeted by a sustained roar of knowing laughter.

On Women and Judaism: A View from Tradition was published in 1981.

Jerusalem, 2009: A poster encouraging men to attend a particular neighborhood synagogue, and encouraging women to enable their husbands to do so:

My free translation of the last paragraph of the poster from the Hebrew (please excuse the glare):

And you, Madame, have the ability to support your husband [in attending the early morning service at the synagogue]. Take upon yourself the morning tasks (waking the children and getting them ready for school, preparing breakfast and sandwiches, and so on). Your reward from the Almighty will be great if you do this. Amen.

Two things came into my mind when I saw this poster. One was: People know a good deal when they see one. If they can somehow boost that deal with promises of divine approval, all the better.

The second was: The more things change....

Two Cats, Two Toys

Two Cats, Two Toys

Catschka likes her new catnip-filled toys very much. Here she plays as Her Ladyship looks on, doubtless thinking, “Good. Those toys should keep her busy long enough for me to get a little peace and quiet!”

“’Scuse me, I can’t hear you. I have a banana in my paw.”

Good heavens, could they actually be playing a little?

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

The Upper Hand

The Upper Hand

I pet Her Ladyship...

... and she uses my foot as a pillow.

I think it’s clear who has the upper hand here.

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.

Demonstrating for Equal Rights on Public Transportation

Demonstrating for Equal Rights on Public Transportation

This morning, I attended a demonstration against sex-segregated public transportation in Jerusalem. The demonstration, which was held outside the Ministry of Transport, was covered by the press.

Here are some photographs that I took:

A bus ticket, created specifically for the demonstration. The top line reads: “Ticket for women. Seating in rear portion only.”

MK Nitzan Horowitz speaks to a journalist from Israel Television. (Note that the journalist is wearing a head covering.)

Two police officers hold a powwow on the road leading to the Ministry of Transport. Since we were fewer than fifty people, we did not require a permit in order to demonstrate. I got the impression that the police officers were not altogether pleased that we knew that bit of information.

As small as the demonstration was, it encompassed most walks of Israeli society. Many religious people object to sex-segregated public transportation on various grounds, including the fact that Jewish religious law does not demand it at all. According to city councilwoman Rachel Azaria, Haredi men and women object to the segregation as well, but cannot say so publicly for fear of reprisal.

The rest of my photos from this morning’s demonstration are here.

Past posts of mine about sex-segregated public transportation:

Rightful Place (August 2, 2004)

And the Bus Blues Roll On (August 5, 2004)

Modesty or Territoriality? (May 13, 2006)

Forced Segregation on Jerusalem’s Buses (May 3, 2009; includes links to photos and videos).

A Sourdough Fantasy

A Sourdough Fantasy

Said the ant, as it stumbled rather than walked
through the crack in the stair:
“In the kitchen, at the counter, kneading dough
is a giantess,
or a witch.
She makes bread out of flour, water, salt and air
and kneads with care
and does not share.
Beware.”

Sourdough pitot, made from scratch from spelt flour, in the oven and out: